


Speed of Sound

by Allthephils



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Meditation, Strangers to Lovers, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-02-29 08:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allthephils/pseuds/Allthephils
Summary: Dan has finally found a voice to ground him and the face that goes with it is even better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will add tags as I go.

Claudia is the best therapist Dan has had in a while. She gets his irreverent sense of humor and doesn’t wince when he punctuates their conversations with words like _fuck_ and _cunt._ He knows he’s not a unique case, privileged white guy with internalized homophobia and existential angst born of a life spent doing whatever the fuck he wants. It’s likely any decent therapist could do the job but it takes a certain someone to make him feel comfortable enough to open up. Claudia is just nerdy enough to understand his references, cool enough to earn his shallow respect, and wry enough to have him laughing at himself every so often.

 

“How’s the meditating going? Did you download the app i sent you?”

 

“Yeah.” Dan’s knee is still bouncing. It always takes a little while to settle down, for his palms to stop sweating, and his eyes to stop flitting toward the door. Claudia helps though. She always has a cup of tea ready and soft music playing from somewhere in the office he can’t quite put his finger on. Anxiety isn’t really his issue, not primarily. Ironically, he’s only anxious on therapy days, when he knows he’ll have to sit in the pain and just feel it. “I got the app but…”

 

She waits, like she always does. _This is your time_ , she’s told him in past visits, always so patient. He’s not sure why but that really makes him feel like shit.

 

“I’ve listened to a couple meditations but the women reading them,” Dan sips his tea from the Star Wars mug Claudia keeps set aside for him. “they all remind me of my mother.” With a self conscious smile, he finally makes eye contact.

 

“And that’s not a comfort to you?”

 

Dan’s laugh is abrupt. “I mean, no.” She’s writing in her notepad, what the fuck is she writing? Mummy issues are so cliche and now it’s on his permanent record. “My mum is ok. She just wasn't really a source of comfort or calm to me, not after my childhood at least.”

 

“And you think a mother should provide those things once you’re past childhood?”

 

“Well, no. Kind of, yeah. I don’t know. Can we get back to the app?”

 

“Sure.” Claudia says, turning the page in her notebook.

 

“My mum was always kind of, new age. And these women use this ultra calm tone. I feel like I’m in trouble.”

 

Claudia laughs a little before suggesting a male voice and promising to send some options that have been helpful for her other clients. They move on to far more complicated topics and in a blink, time is up.

 

“Take good care today Dan,” she says as they stand to exit the office, “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

 

His phone vibrates from her text before the elevator reaches the ground floor. The links take him to the app he’s been using all along, emphasizing how little effort he’s actually made. Each link takes him to a new thumbnail, a new middle aged white guy that looks like he teaches yoga and eats a lot of kale. The younger ones remind him of his brother and there could literally be nothing worse than that. A self righteous self professed guru, his brother tells him depression is a choice that he can will away with a vegan diet and a bike ride through Europe. He quickly moves on, clicking through the remaining links. He’s about to give up for the night, when he lands on a profile with at least a dozen meditations and a profile pic that is decidedly different. There’s no balding yogi, no young fresh faced vegan, just a dog, an adorable corgi with his tongue hanging out.

 

He finds the shortest one, something called _Kindness to Self._ He’s just boarded the tube but it’s less than 5 minutes long so he puts his headphones in and hits play. There’s some music at the start, the usual peaceful, royalty free massage music, then the voice starts in.

 

“Making sure you’re comfortable and upright, let’s start with a slow deep breath.”

 

Ok, that doesn’t sound anything like his mum. The voice is deep, and decidedly masculine. There’s just a hint of a northern accent on some of the words. Dan finds himself taking that slow deep breath, involuntarily, sinking into the seat he’s in, laying his head back, closing his eyes. Dan Howell does not close his eyes in public and definitely not on the tube, but he does when this voice tells him to. Partly because it really is a soothing voice and because this particular voice makes him want to listen and just do what the it says. He supposes that’s the point. The voices on here are meant to be trustworthy and relaxing. You should feel eager to comply, to surrender to the voice in your ear. After all, it only wants what’s best for you.

 

On therapy days, Dan doesn’t re-enter the world on the tail end of catharsis but rather in the midst of it. Every nerve is raw and tender, oversensitive in a way that precludes social contact with anyone other than the most trusted of friends. He’s developed a ritual of picking up a meal on the way home and eating it on his sofa under a blanket. He lets himself cry or sleep or whatever is necessary to be sure all the work he did with Claudia isn’t lost to the din of everyday life. The guilt he feels at the privilege that allows him to take the day to himself will have to wait.

 

Today however, is different. When he opens his eyes, he feels refreshed, awake in a way he has no right to be, considering his sleeping habits. The voice had ended with a reassurance, he is safe, he is worthy of love, he is enough. As he lifts his head and looks around, realizing his stop is coming up, he might actually believe it a little. It’s a rare sunny day in London and the sofa doesn’t sound near as good as sitting outside with a good curry.

 

And so it begins. The struggle to build a daily meditation practice has been ongoing for months but now Dan’s not sure what held him up. He looks forward to the moment he gets to sit on his balcony or in his favorite chair, put in his headphones, and let Phil talk him off the ledge he tends to find himself on daily. He finds himself further from the edge each time he starts, the abyss below looking less and less daunting. Some days, he even thinks the abyss has all been an illusion, that beyond the cliff is warm water and cool clean air. Some days, he thinks he could run toward the edge and jump, find what’s beyond there and live through it.

 

Life goes on, and it is what it’s always been for Dan, though subtle changes start to creep in. He finds himself appreciating little things everyday, things he can remember enjoying when he was younger. Food seems to taste better. He’s spending more time on his balcony, letting his mind wander. He’s kinder to himself. It’s only been two weeks, he figures this is the honeymoon period but he’s doing his best not to question it. Claudia is happy for him. She reminds him to take it day by day, to let his doubts come, acknowledge them, and then let them go. She repeats the benefits he describes back to him. She says he’s doing the work and that’s what matters, to just let it be whatever it’s going to be.

 

He goes straight home after that visit, eager to get in a meditation before he has to pack. Tomorrow is his Dad’s birthday and he’ll be with his family for the weekend. He would truly rather get a root canal or go to a Shania Twain concert, any torture would be better than what he knows is ahead. His mum is ok, she’ll make a vegan cake so everyone can enjoy it but his dad will complain that it’s his goddamn birthday, even though the cake will taste amazing. She’ll kiss his forehead when he sits down under the weight of yet another of his father’s disparaging take downs of bisexuality.

 

“Just a little greedy isn’t it? You know we’ll love you _even if_ you like blokes, no need to waffle.”

 

If they go out, he’ll be in constant fear of being spotted by an old school friend and his brother will literally not stop talking the entire weekend. By the end his head will be swimming in a cocktail of judgement, love, passive aggression, and affection, with just a dash of boundary issues for good measure.

 

Pulling up the app, he notices his hand gripping the phone tightly, the muscles in his forearms rippling. His chest is tight, his breathing shallow. It’s a familiar feeling but he’s never noticed the details before, not in the moment at least. Claudia will often ask him to describe the sensations in his body when revisiting stressful moments in their sessions but he stammers and stumbles, trying to connect to what should be so clear. Hand to his chest, he slows the rise and fall, focused only on his breath. The cacophony in his head quiets just a bit.

 

Smiling, Dan opens his eyes and looks at himself in the mirror on the wall. It’s the first time in a long time he’s felt like he’s accomplished something that matters. He’ll get through the weekend. He’ll be there for his mum and he’ll focus on the things feel good and nurturing to him. He looks better in the mirror, though his shoulders are still up by his ears, his brow still furrowed in a way that’s going to give him terrible wrinkles when he’s older. He raises his brows, opens his mouth as wide as he can, wiggles his jaw side to side. A weekend like the one he can expect deserves a good start, a clean mental slate or as close as he can get, and a body that’s relaxed and rested. He grabs his headphones and phone and heads for the balcony.

 

There’s a chill in the air but he’s thrown a quilt over his lap and he’s comfortable. The meditation is titled _Body Scan._ He hasn’t done this one because it’s long and requires a paid membership to the app.

 

_Bring a feeling of ease to your entire body with a gentle guided body scan._

 

Fuck yes. Bring on that whole body feeling of ease. In a few clicks, he’s joined and paid fifteen of his hard earned quid, ready to wipe the slate clean. Closing his eyes, he presses play.

 

Dan has never taken the time to sit in awareness of the top of his head before, to acknowledge the feeling of his hair lying on his scalp, the way it gently rustles when the wind blows. It smells a little musty out here, like it rains all the time because it does. The bakery below must be making bread because he smells just a hint of that too. The bridge of his nose is just a little cold and his cheeks tingle a bit with the blood rushing to warm them.

 

 _“_ Moving down to your upper lip, your lower lip. Notice how they feel. Are they relaxed? Are they soft? If not, that’s ok. Notice that, let it be. If they are, notice how they rest, slightly parted.”

 

He swallows and licks his lips, letting them settle back to a place of rest. They are soft. They are parted. He hears his own voice in his head, _they are soft, Phil._

 

“Coming down to the neck, the back of your neck. Your head is supported so your neck doesn’t need to do any work. Can your head rest back, elongating your throat? Allow the muscles to soften.”

 

Phil’s voice is low and viscous, filling Dan’s ears and moving over every piece of him. It slides warm over the skin of his neck and a shiver runs up his spine. It dips into his collarbones and melts over his shoulders, moving slowly over his chest.

 

 _“_ Feel the cloth of your clothes against your skin. Is it light? Does it move with the rise and fall of your chest? Is it smooth? Is it rough?”

 

His tone sinks lower on that last word and Dan exhales a shuddering breath. So aware of his body, he notes that his nipples are hard. He opens his eyes, looking left to right as if he could get caught in his mildly impure response to something so innocent. Clearing his throat, he decides he’s just cold and relaxes his head back, closing his eyes again.

 

“Is there some tension in the muscles of your back? Doesn’t matter, just noticing, letting them be. Notice the places where they are able to let go. Moving down to your lower back, your hips, your buttocks.”

 

 _Oh._ The word _buttocks_ has never sounded sexy before but this is where Dan finds himself. Phil asks what it’s like to be in this moment, he suggests having a sense of curiosity about the experience.

 

_I’m curious, Phil._

 

“Coming around to your pubic bone, your inner thighs, the front of your thighs, the back of your thighs. Are the muscles soft?”

 

_Not really._

 

There are a few things that aren’t exactly soft at this point. His thigh muscles for sure, his nipples definitely, and though he tries to will it away, his dick has decided that relaxation is not the immediate goal. It’s not about sex, it’s just a normal reaction to comfort and safety, something that’s been historically sparse for Dan. He won’t sully this sweet thing he’s found. He needs this to be what it is, he can’t spoil it. He definitely won’t reach under his quilt and pop the button on his jeans.

 

Goosebumps prickle over Dan’s shins as Phil continues to spread the slow honey of his voice. His hand is down his pants now and his other reaches out to his phone to back the meditation up, give him some more time with Phil. The words breeze through his head. _Your lower lip. Are they soft? Slightly parted._ Dan feels himself grow in his hand. _The back of your neck. Your throat._ He strokes lightly but soon he gives in and takes what he needs _. Is it rough?_ He shoves his pants down quickly, still hidden under the quilt though no one could see up here. Moisture drips from the tip of his cock, bobbing free now and he spreads it over the head with his palm, stroking down with a tight fist, his foreskin sliding back and forth. _The muscles of your chest, your hips._ He bites his lip and strokes faster. _Your buttocks. Your pubic bone._ Hips bucking slightly, he fucks up into his hand. _Your inner thighs. Fuck. Fuck._ Warmth spills onto Dan’s belly as he bites back the sound he wants to make.

 

“Your body is breathing, breathing in, breathing out. Your body is moving with the breath.”

 

For a few minutes, he just enjoys the afterglow, head back, body so relaxed. He lets his breathing even out and slow as Phil is wrapping up the meditation.

 

“Opening your eyes as we finish. See if you can take this awareness out into your life. Awareness of your body throughout the day.”

 

He is aware of his body throughout the rest of the day. When he folds his quilt, carefully checking to be sure it was spared from the mess he made, he’s aware of the blush in his cheeks. He’s aware of how sensitive his soft dick is when he showers the mess off of his stomach,  And he’s keenly aware as he packs for the weekend that this is the most relaxed he’s ever felt leading up to time with his family. Sure, it’s just the really good open air orgasm he just had but he’s gonna hold on to the optimism as long as he can.

 

***

 

“Everyday since our last meeting?” Claudia holds the door open for Dan. He couldn’t help but brag as she poured their tea. “That’s wonderful, Dan. This is you, placing value on your own well being. Tell me how it’s been for you.”

 

“It’s been pretty great actually. I’m starting to approach things differently, throughout my day. I’m like, tuned in to all the little things my body does in response to stress. And then, when I meditate, it’s like, _yes, thank you body. You didn’t die today.”_

 

Claudia smiles and writes.

 

“What?” Dan leans forward, trying to read what she wrote. He always tries, it never works.

 

“You just joked about _not dying._ That’s new.”

 

The next few weeks are productive. Dan has a few bad days but his daily practice really is improving his outlook. He tries to be mindful in every part of his day, not just while meditating. For the most part, Phil’s recordings still have the intended effect. The longest ones do bring with them some pleasant side effects but the end result is the same, relaxation, peace of mind, self awareness. A little extra curricular activity never hurts. Still, there’s a brief but undeniable reaction in Dan’s body when his phone sounds that specific tone, the one reminding him that it’s time to meditate. He finds a few other voices, just to mix it up a bit, make the whole experience a little less titillating. Most days, he still chooses Phil.

 

He’s started scheduling therapy earlier in the day so he has time to shop and cook for himself afterward. Today’s session was really good which means he’s content but drained and tired so he gives himself permission to order dinner tonight. With the extra time that leaves, he decides to treat himself to tea at the coffee place on his block.

 

Dan takes a table right by the front door. A chill runs up his arms each time someone new shows up but it’s worth it to watch the rain stream down the window. He chooses hibiscus tea for the color as much as the flavor. If only he had a book. It seems counterproductive to stare at his phone on a day like this. The rain will have to do for entertainment and the people. Watching well dressed Londoners come and go, overhearing their coffee orders and their conversations, it is pretty amusing, and this place always plays good music.

 

Watching a single drop of rain make it’s winding way down the window, Dan lets his mind wander. _This little raindrop was once one drop in the sea. This glass is the only thing keeping me from lightning and pouring rain. These drops all look like sperm._

 

The table next to him has been alive with conversation and laughter but they seems to be wrapping up. “Ok guys. I’ll send everybody what we came up with today.”

 

That voice. Dan keeps entirely still and just listens.

 

“Well done, see you in two weeks!”

 

 _Phil?_ Dan’s head whips around with the realization.There are five men standing, clearing dishes, saying goodbyes and hugging. He can’t tell who that voice came out of but they’re all tall and cute and nerdy looking. There’s no way one of them is Phil, he’s not that lucky. Unlucky? His hands are sweating and his tea is too hot to clear the flush running up his neck. It has to be a coincidence and there’s really nothing to be done anyway. He can’t exactly walk up to the group and say, “hey, is one of you named Phil?”

 

It’s probably best if he’s not staring at them all, open mouthed when they turn to leave so he turns his gaze into his tea cup. When the door closes behind them, he peers through the window, eyes inches from the glass but everything is blurry through the water.

 

“You look like you could use this.” The barista puts a plate down in front of Dan, drawing his attention from where he was trying to focus on the pavement outside. After taking in the sight of the pretty little cake on his plate, he looks up at her smiling face. She shifts from foot to foot and pushes her hair behind her ear.

 

“Oh,” Dan says, “thank you. That’s so lovely.” He knows he sounds like he’s talking to his grandma but he’s just so distracted. “Hey, do you know those guys? The ones that just left.”

 

She clears her throat. “Um, sort of. They’ve been here every week for a bit.”

 

“Do you know if one of them is named Phil?”

 

She looks disappointed, maybe even annoyed. “No, I don’t know their names. Why don’t you ask that guy?” She points over her shoulder and Dan twists to see that there is one person left at the table, sat quietly working on his laptop.

 

“Oh. Yeah, ok. Thanks.” He smiles as sweetly as he can without giving her the wrong idea. “Thanks for the cake.” But she’s already walking away.

 

It’s embarrassing even as he’s doing it but Dan stretches his arms over his head, leaning back in a fairly obvious attempt at masking his blatant ogling. _Oh my._ He nearly tips back and falls off his chair but he manages to right himself.

 

The man left at the table is broad shouldered and beautiful. His hair is unnaturally black, pushed back in a quiff that’s just a little too high. He has the most beautiful skin and he’s wearing glasses that somehow just make him hotter. Thankfully, he’s engrossed in his work so he doesn’t notice a stranger tracing the sharp angles of his face with his eyes. It looks like he’s reading something and then laughs a little to himself. It’s a gleeful, high pitched giggle and Dan doesn’t care what his name is anymore, he has to meet him.

 

Dan is really good at talking to strangers professionally and he’s pretty good at wine fueled flirtation with attractive strangers. This is different though. He curses himself for not carrying a flask with which to spike his tea but he stands and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and feeling his chest rise and fall. The floor is solid under his feet and he notes the soft, flattering lighting as he opens his eyes. There’s only the barista and one other customer in the back of the room. Another deep breath and he turns and takes a step toward the other table.

 

There’s less than a foot between the table and Dan now. He waits for the beautiful stranger to notice he’s there but it seems he’s completely oblivious. Dan’s heart is beating fast but he just let’s that be. That’s what Phil would tell him to do, notice it and let it be.

 

“Excuse me,” He has no idea what to say. Luckily, his brain supplies a steady stream of humiliating nervous chatter. “Sorry. So sorry to bother you. I like the stickers on your laptop. Very cute.”

 

The stranger finally looks up at Dan through his glasses. For the way his heart flutters, there should be poetry forming in Dan’s mind. He should be composing sonnets about those blue eyes but he hasn’t exactly looked away from his lips. “I mean, cool. And cute I guess. I went to NASA once. In America. It was...cool. Yeah. Anyway sorry, I saw you here and I wanted to say hi.”

 

For a moment, Dan thinks the sun has broken through the clouds to stream through the rain streaked window but it turns out it’s just the smile that’s spread on the stranger’s face. There’s a hint of amusement there but mostly it’s just, warm. He tells himself to shut up, please Dan just shut up, “You probs want to know why. Why I came up to a total stranger to interrupt your work and start rambling like an idiot. Why did you do that, Dan? No idea. Oh. I..I’m Dan, by the way. Uh. Hi. Can we start again?”

 

The stranger’s shoulders bounce a bit with his laughter but he puts out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Dan. I’m Phil.”

 

It’s a good thing there’s a chair next to Dan because he’s going to sit now, one way or another, and it would be pretty embarrassing to plop down onto the floor. Knees are silly things, the way they give way when you need them most.

 

“Oh.” Phil says, “Sure, have a seat Dan.”

 

Dan just breathes, hand to his chest, trying to remember how to do that thing where he chills the fuck out.

 

“Are you alright Dan? Take your time. Maybe start with a couple deep breaths.” Phil takes a deep breath of his own and, _fuck_ , why is that so sexy? “You can stay as long as you need. Relax and just be here. Ok?”

 

The knot in Dan’s stomach dissolves into glowing warmth, radiating from his belly and bringing a prickling heat down between his legs.

 

Phil’s still watching him. “Focus on your breath, Dan. Just in and out.”

 

“Stop talking. Please.” Not the most eloquent of pleas but it’s all he’s got. “Have dinner with me. Will you have dinner with me?”

 

“Have dinner with you?”

 

Dan nods quickly and looks Phil in the eyes.

 

“Are you an axe murderer?” Phil says with the cutest little crooked grin, “or a cannibal?”

 

“Nope. Neither.”

 

“Alright then.”

 

“Really?” Dan cringes internally at the squeak of his tone.

 

“Should I not?” Phil is so good natured, just laughing and smiling through this display of insanity.

 

“No, no you should.” Dan can feel his dimple digging in. “Tonight?” He hands a startled looking Phil his phone and with a shrug, he puts his number in. “Ok!” Dan is out of breath, giddy and beaming. He manages to stand and clear his teacup and plate, only tripping over the chair and once over his own feet. “I’ll text you.” He sputters out in the general direction of Phil’s gorgeous face, just existing right here in the same place as him. And with that, he’s out the door.

 

The minute he gets home, Dan is throwing off his clothes and jumping into the shower, eager to relieve the tension winding its way up the front of his thighs. Once the nerves and the excitement and the bliss have passed, something else floods in. It’s an impressive cocktail, even for Dan; guilt, shame, embarrassment, regret, fear, dread.

 

It hits him as he’s looking in the mirror rubbing a towel over his head to dry the curls there.

 

“Oh god,” Dan says out loud to the mirror, “What did you do?”

 

He could forget any of this ever happened, delete the app, delete Phil’s number, never go back to that coffee shop, find a new therapist, move to America and become a cattle rancher or something. A solid plan to be sure, but the Dan in the mirror gives him a look that says, _buck up little camper,_ so he squares his shoulders, pulls on his favorite black boxer briefs and sits down with his phone in one trembling hand.

 

The contact name says _Phil_ but where the last name should go, it says _from the coffee shop._ All he needs to do is say hi, so Phil has his number. He can hit the ball into his court and just leave it there, wait for him to make a move.

 

“Hey Phil, it’s Dan from earlier.”

 

He’s still staring at his sent text when a response comes through. “Hi Dan! Feeling any better?”

 

Perfect. He obviously made a fucking fantastic first impression. That cattle ranching job is sounding pretty good. He has to say something so he types again, “Yeah. I’m ok. Sorry about that.”

 

“Do you always get that worked up when you pick up guys at coffee shops? Or is it just me?”

 

The little shit. “Just you.” He deletes that, of course. Dan can count on his brain to supply dozens of quipy comebacks in situations like this. It’s his most useful defense mechanism. RIght now though, he’s got nothing. Maybe it’s his new found clear headedness but he doesn’t want to make a snarky comment, he’s wants to push through all the embarrassment and let himself be excited.

 

“No comment.” He hits send and follows up with, “Still on for tonight?”

 

“Absolutely. But I have a weird request. Would you mind having dinner here, with me?” Dan stomach drops and before he can formulate a response, another text comes through.

 

“I swear I’m not trying to just hook up with you. I just moved and my dog is really nervous in the new place. I haven’t left her alone for more than a couple hours and I was already gone today. Do you mind? I can cook. Or we can do another night if you’d rather go out.”

The phone drops to Dan’s lap and he buries his face in his hands. He’s all alone in his apartment, grinning like an idiot and blushing, hiding behind his hands though no one is there to see. His brain is all mushy. 

Peaking through his fingers, he stares down at the phone for a few seconds before picking it up. “No, that’s perfect. See you at 8?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dan double and triple checks the address on his phone before getting out of the Uber. This can’t possibly be it. Phil looked normal, his friends looked normal, but this building is not normal. This building is posh. The street is dotted with boutiques Dan would be too embarrassed to walk into and restaurants he could never afford to eat at. Stepping out of the car, he stands at the curb, head tipped back to take in the height of the place. He should have worn nicer shoes.

 

He does a quick body check, drops his shoulders, relaxes his jaw, unclenches his ass, and punches the flat number Phil gave him into the keypad on the wall. There’s no response but there is a buzzing sound inviting Dan to come on in so he does. The elevator takes him to the top floor of the building and Dan steps out onto a landing with a door on either side. 

 

“Hey Dan.” Phil’s standing in the doorway on the right. Dan feels his body float in that general direction and soon his mind catches up enough to thrust his hand out in an attempt at a hello. Phil grabs it, pulling him in for a hug. It’s a good strong hug. His broad chest is warm pressed to Dan, his hands are sure, his arms welcoming. He smells exactly how he sounds. Sweet like fruit but deep and smokey with an edge of masculinity that makes Dan’s knees wobble and his eyes close. It’s new and enticing but so incredibly familiar. He’s a total stranger and he has no idea what a friend he’s been. 

 

A small but very menacing growl shakes Dan from the fantasy that is Phil’s arms. He opens his eyes to see an equally small but decidedly less menacing dog looking up at him with a threat in her eye. 

 

“Oh hello!” Dan says over Phil’s shoulder. The moment his sweet dog and baby voice comes out, he blushes, wishing he could suck the sound back in. It’s too late though. She’s adorable and trying so hard to be tough, he can’t hold back. The moment Phil steps back, Dan steps over the threshold and kneels. 

 

“Sorry.” Phil says, kneeling next to Dan. “She really is a sweetheart, she’s just so wary in this new place.”

 

“Aw, she’s just doing her job.” Dan puts his hand out for the dog to sniff and she does. Soon she’s nudging her head under for a pet and finally rolling over, wiggling on the floor, just begging for a tummy rub. “There she is!” Dan coos, “Who’s wants a tummy rub? You do!” Dan gives up any hope he had of looking cool and pats her belly to the sweet sound of Phil’s laughter next to him.

 

“Look at that, she loves you already!” Phil stands and closes the door behind them. “This is Spike.” He looks down at his dog. “Spike, This is Dan. Say hello.” Dan stands, smiling, and looks at Phil before returning his focus to Spike. “Spike,” Phil repeats more sternly this time, “Say hello to our guest.”

 

Spike barks a high pitched yip, sitting up like a good pup should. This welcome is better than Dan could have imagined. All his nerves have melted away in the face of Spike’s wagging tail and Phil’s musical laughter. He bends to give his new friend a good scratch behind the ear. 

 

“Well, now that’s done. Come in, Dan.” Phil snaps his fingers at Spike and she runs off to jump on to a comfy looking chair, turning in a full circle before lying down and curling up. “You can leave your shoes and coat here and then follow Spike into the lounge and have a seat. I’ll get us drinks.”

 

The drinks are sweeter than Dan would prefer but they’re good. He’ll have to pace himself, he can barely taste the booze. 

 

They eat pizza that Phil made himself and salad because they are adults and adults eat salad with their pizza. The conversation is mostly dog-centric but soon Dan is sharing stories of his career, his family, his failed attempt at university. He’s so at ease, sinking into the sofa, eager to share everything with Phil. It’s weird, not like him at all. He even talks about his struggles with depression.

 

“I guess I’m making progress. Claudia says I am and I’ve chosen to believe her.”

 

“Is Claudia your girlfriend?” Phil wears a tiny crooked smirk and Dan really wishes he would put it away because he’s been doing so well up to now.

 

“Do you really think I’d be here if I had a girlfriend?”

 

“I guess not. Wife then?”

 

Dan laughs. It’s a loud laugh, the real kind you feel in your chest, the kind where the laugh fades into a big smile that just won’t go away. “She’s my therapist.” He says, looking down at the empty drink in his hand. “She’s kinda responsible for all this. Funny story, I’ll tell you sometime.” Phil looks perplexed but doesn’t push the issue. 

 

It’s been a long day. The rollercoaster of emotions Dan has been on is slowing to a stop and now he just feels comfortable, warmed by a full belly and one too many sweet drinks. He doesn’t even realize he’s yawning until Phil laughs and comments on the sheer size of his mouth. He knows he must be pinking up but he’s too content to care.

 

“Do you need to go Dan? You’re looking pretty sleepy.”

 

“Uh uh.” Dan pulls his feet up and tucks his legs next to him on the sofa. His body leans slightly into Phil’s by nature of the position he finds himself in and he must be very sleepy or very tipsy because he just lets it happen. In reality, he’s both so when he feels an arm slide behind his neck, he lets his head loll over onto one broad good smelling shoulder. Soon there are fingers raking gently through his hair and he sighs.

 

Phil’s breathy chuckle is absolute music, “You are sleepy,” he says, “you can rest. Just let everything go. I’ve got you.” Dan’s breath syncs with the cadence of Phil’s words and his eyes flutter shut.

 

“Tell me something.” Dan whispers, too soft and too tired to speak up.

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“Anything, just keep talking.”

 

There’s something about his mum and his brother, a bit about fish food that makes Phil’s chest shake with giggles. They’re probably lovely, the stories, Phil’s family. How could they not be? Dan can’t follow though, all he knows is that warm woolen voice wrapping him up like a blanket, weighing him down till he’s deep in the fog of almost sleep with no desire to pull himself out. 

 

***

Dan has shades on his bedroom windows that completely block out the light. He can sleep till evening and never see the sun if he wants to. For that reason, the bright glare currently streaming through his closed eyelids is strange and a bit perplexing. He’s also been sleeping on his back, something he never does. Dan sleeps on his side, rolled like a pill bug, taking up as little space as possible. 

 

There’s a heavy blanket pulled up to his chin, keeping him warm and snug, his socked toes sticking out the end, and something extra warm laying across his thighs. As his eyes open, squinting in the harsh sunlight, he lifts his head to see Spike curled up on his lap, breathing softly. 

 

“Hello.” Dan says sweetly and Spike stands before wagging her tail and jumping down onto the floor. A dull headache is starting to form behind his eyes so he let’s them close again, dropping back onto the cushion behind his head. He doesn’t know how it got there. Come to think of it, he can’t remember falling asleep at all. The last thing he remembers is Phil talking about his family. He remembers listening to his voice, resting his head on his shoulder, the words running together, Phil’s hands pushing into his hair. His eyes are open now, wide open. 

 

It’s all rushing in. He’d leaned right into Phil, he’d asked him to talk. A warm blush spreads over Dan’s chest and up his neck, inching toward his cheeks and he sits straight up, hoping gravity will pull some of his shame down where he can hide it. Unfortunately, remembering Phil’s voice and those fingers raking through his curls does send the blood downward, and soon he is keenly aware of his morning indiscretion. He’s sat on Phil’s sofa, in Phil’s lounge, with Phil’s dog looking up at him, and he has an erection. An erection that feels awfully unencumbered for someone in skinny jeans. It’s at that precise moment that Dan spots his jeans, folded neatly on the coffee table. Lifting the blanket to confirm, he catches a glimpse of his black boxer briefs, tented obscenely.

 

The house is quiet, either Phil is still asleep or he’s already left. Dan has got to get out of here, he’s got to get his fucking clothes on and get out of here. Throwing the blanket off of him, he swivels to sit properly on the sofa, rubbing his eyes and arching his back till it cracks. He’ll pull on his jeans, button them over his offending parts, slip on his shoes, and run to the nearest coffee shop. It’s a solid plan. 

 

“Morning Spike.” For the first time ever, Phil’s voice does not bring comfort but utter panic. Pulling the blanket back over his lap, Dan lays down and curls toward the cushions, hiding as best he can, pretending to sleep.

 

“You know the drill pupper,” Phil continues, “eat your breakfast and we’ll go out after my coffee.”

 

Footsteps come closer, he shuffles his feet, Dan can tell he’s wearing socks. He hears the sound of something being set on the table behind him, then he hears the sound a second time. The sofa dips below his feet. The pitter patter of four little feet soon follow and the sound of excited and obedient panting. He assumes that’s Spike.

 

“I know little one, you don’t like eating alone.” It’s barely a whisper and Dan squeezes his eyes shut, hoping Phil will shut up and go back in the kitchen long enough for him to get a hold of himself. A sweet sigh has Dan melting a little in spite of himself. “Look at him, girl,” Phil says, “where did he come from?”

 

A hand comes to rest on Dan’s ankle and he jumps a little. “Dan?” Phil tightens his grip for just a second. “Dan, do you need to be up? I made coffee.”

 

After what he thinks is a very convincing impression of a person who has just woken up, Dan finds himself sat next to Phil, enjoying a too sweet coffee. He stays under the blanket to be safe but his body cooperates. The blood is sent instead to warm his tummy and chest, sending prickly goosebumps over his arms when Phil says he’s going to hop into the shower.

 

“I’ve got to walk Spike in a bit, you’re welcome to join us.”

 

“Oh, um, I should probably get going. Don’t want to wear out my welcome.”

 

Phil gives him a look like he’s trying to figure him out. “OK, if you need to go.” He leans in the doorway. He looks so good, so effortless. Of course he does, they’re in his home but Dan isn’t sure he ever looks that relaxed when other humans are present. Phil had shared stories of awkward encounters and clumsiness but Dan is starting to wonder if that’s all an elaborate ruse designed to break down the defenses of introspective guys in coffee shops. It does perfectly match his hot nerd aesthetic though. An aesthetic currently rounded out by messy hair and mismatched socks and Pokémon pajamas hanging low on his hips. And Dan is officially staring.

 

It takes one cheeky cocked eyebrow from Phil for Dan to duck his head and reach for his jeans, laying down to pull them on under the blanket. As he’s folding up last night’s bed, a final revelation rolls into mind.

 

“Phil?” He clears his throat. “I think I may have had one or two too many last night, sorry about that.” He turns to look at Phil who is still leaning, just watching and smiling. “Um, I don’t remember the blanket or my, uh, jeans. I didn’t strip down right in front of you or anything, I hope.” He forces out an embarrassed laugh.

 

“Very nearly,” Phil says with infuriating nonchalance, “when I laid you down,” 

_Laid me down?_

“you were desperately trying to get them off, just wiggling and tugging like mad.” _Wiggling and tugging?_

Dan decides he believes in god after all and silently prays for death.

“So I just helped you out of them.”

_Helped me out of them?!_

“I hope that’s ok. You curled right up and I tucked you in.”

 

“Oh.” Dan’s cheeks may burst into flame at any moment, he really does need to get out of this flat. “Ok. Thanks? I guess. And sorry. Again”

 

“Don’t be. You were very cute, not that I was looking.”

 

“Course not.” Dan mutters.

 

“Eyes closed the whole time.” Phil has one hand up like he’s taking an oath but then he sucks in his bottom lip and goddamn, can he not. Dan is either going to jump out the window or jump Phil’s bones, he’s not sure which yet. “Well, most of the time.”

 

“Phil, I…”

 

“Have a good day today Dan! I’ll text you.”

 

And he’s gone, vanished down the hallway and Dan is left alone with his thoughts. He grabs his shoes and walks his socks to the elevator as quickly as he can. By the time he reaches the ground floor, his shoes are on and he’s free to try and outrun his imagination. It doesn’t work. Thoughts of steam and skin and soapy slippery hands follow him to the coffee shop and the Tesco and keep him blushing in the Uber till he’s finally home. 

 

For the way he’s sweating, you’d think he ran the whole way. He’d been doing so well with his new found way of seeing the world. Guess that’s all gone to shit. So much for calm, mindful Dan. There’s only mortified Dan now, condemned forever to live in his own head, replaying the last 24 hours on a loop. He can’t exactly resort to his usual coping mechanism. Listening to Phil to escape thoughts of Phil seems counterproductive at best, masochistic at worst. He makes a sandwich, he eats the sandwich, he checks his email, he watches the new Contrapoints video. It’s all rote, he’s going through the motions. It’s the exact opposite of mindful, slipping into old patterns but with a strange undercurrent of joy prickling just under the surface.

 

In an effort to mix things up and refocus his mind, he opens his laptop and tweets out to his followers. _Spur of the moment live show starting now! Come join me on YouTube._

 

He waxes psychological, discussing meditation and mindfulness, giving multiple disclaimers that he’s not a professional. He knows that some of his subscribers see him as an authority on all things mental health, but he’d rather be a good friend than a therapist and he’s definitely not ready to be anybody’s dad. They all participate in a lively discussion and he’s so grateful for this little community that has built up around him. It feels good to say something positive, to have some concrete advice to give. He’s uncharacteristically hopeful, but he figures his brand can take the hit. When he signs off, he’s grinning and it just sort of stays. This kind of satisfaction is new to Dan and it occurs to him that maybe he’s been missing something. 

 

Quickly, he opens a doc on his desktop titled _ideas_ and types _depression video, discuss with Claudia._ He’s come so far, he has something to say, Phil isn’t the only thing that calms him. He’s been working really hard at this new practice, he shouldn’t reduce it to such simple terms, he has every right to be proud. After an early dinner and a shower, he’s ready to just watch something low stakes in bed and fall asleep. He was up much earlier than his normal after all. Only one thing remains, his daily meditation. He’d ignored his reminder earlier since he was walking home from the tube when it went off and because, at the time, the alarm just seemed to be screaming the name Phil over and over. But that was hours ago, he’s a new man now. 

 

Opening his app, he finds a simple ten minute meditation focused on winding down for the night. He hadn't bothered to dress after his shower, choosing only to don his softest pants in spite of their sonic the hedgehog motif. He’s had these forever and they bring comfort in more ways than one. The chair in the corner of his room is a favorite with soft cushions and grey velvety upholstery. He sits, sets his phone on the arm, and clicks play.

 

The voice that comes through is pleasant enough, deep and American. It leads Dan through the usual practice of recognizing thoughts, acknowledging discomfort, moving relaxation through his body piece by piece. 

 

He gets no further than his shoulders before he’s squirming. The voice is too soft, too affected, it’s just, uncomfortable. He’s tries another and another. He visualizes a blue light, a cave, a mirror. He tenses, he sighs, he acknowledges but he doesn’t let it be. He can’t. So he caves.

 

Finally, mercifully, Phil’s voice floats from his phone speaker. The sound of a deep breath and a hello. _Find a comfortable place to sit. This time is yours. Let’s begin._

 

Yes Phil, let’s. There’s not much tension left in Dan’s body but every ounce that is there responds to that familiar voice. It leaves slowly, streaming like honey poured from a spoon, slow and beautiful in the time it takes. A trail of sweet golden light is all that’s left it’s wake. 

 

That voice is all Dan needs but now there’s something else as his mind supplies an image of Phil’s eyes crinkling as he laughs, Phil’s hip bones peeking over his pajamas, Phil’s lips quirked up in a knowing smirk. 

 

_Exhale. You’ve done all you can today._

 

The chair could swallow him and he wouldn’t mind. His head rests back, eyes closed, and his lungs empty in a slow exhale. The embarrassment of yesterday’s candor is stripped away and all that’s left is the comfort of Phil’s fingers in his hair and the soft echo of his voice as the meditation ends. 

 

He takes a while to get up. Eventually he hoists his heavy limbs into bed and curls comfortably around something in his chest that feels like safety. Just as he’s drifting off, his phone vibrates and he reaches an arm to tip it toward him. Spike’s adorable face beams at him from the screen and he clicks with his thumb to see a text below the photo.

 

“Hey Dan, Spike wanted to say goodnight but since you don’t speak dog, I thought I’d translate. She says she had a great time last night and she hopes you visit again. She also hopes you had a great day after you left and she says sweet dreams.”

 

Dan has one foot in dreamland so he doesn’t respond but sets the phone down and sinks into slumber with a smile on his lips.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi at [@allthephils](http://allthephils.tumblr.com/)


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